


Roses Are Red

by VolatilePrince



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Codependency, Gore, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 14:26:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolatilePrince/pseuds/VolatilePrince
Summary: “They are two halves of the same being. One cannot be separated from the other, they can’t survive on their own.”





	Roses Are Red

_Roses are red, violets are blue._

Eva loved to show us little poems when we were young, do you remember? You were always distracted by something else so it wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t. You did pay attention to this one, the most childish one. You’d sing it sometimes in your off tune voice, or say it to me when you’d bring me a… Gift. 

__

_Sugar is sweet, and so are you._

As we grew, our paths deviated. And once Eva had perished, we didn’t see each other for almost 11 years, when I raised the Temen Ni Gru. You were older now, still cocky and rambunctious but I could see through the facade. You were sad, worried even. As you watched me with eyes identical to my own as I fell into Hell, I knew that you would regret this. You already did. You still loved me.

_But the roses are wilted, the violets are dead._

Nelo Angelo is a name I resent now. I almost killed you, and you almost killed me. I was a slave, little more than a puppet in his damn game. I had no free thought, I had no will. He told me to kill and I did. But you still loved me. Even after two decades and literally Hell, you accepted me back into your home. As you dealt with my imperfections, my screams at night and my uncontrolled bloodlust. But all good things come to an end, as this one did when I decided I’d had enough of Mary. 

_The sugar bowl’s empty, my wrists are stained red._

Love makes you weak. Unable to complete a task if it was to hurt or kill the one you’re so fond over. And that is why I’m sitting in a pool of blood that we both shared, looking into your cold, lifeless eyes. How long has it been, that I’ve been sitting here with the corpse of my dead twin? I can’t tell. Regret is a feeling that I never thought I’d come to terms with, but now I feel it. I believe I truly understand that emotion, the human emotion. Your body lie on the floor, guts hanging out and your head severed and in my hands. You didn’t die with dignity, no one does. You died looking at me with tears in your eyes, your hand on mine as I raked Yamato through your neck. Through skin and tendons, through bone and muscle. And you fell. 

__

_“They are two halves of the same being. One cannot be separated from the other, they can’t survive on their own.”_

 

I thought little upon hearing our father’s words when I was young, I was listening into a conversation between he and Eva, a conversation a child should never hear. But when I look back, we did barely that didn’t we? We survived on the faith that the other wasn’t dead, that nothing could kill us. We survived on hope. And hope is always the last thing to die, isn’t it? 

But now I have no hope. Because of my foolishness I have no hope, as I am looking at my hope as he lay in pieces. Suicide is a coward’s way out, but my brother I fear I’ve become a coward.


End file.
